The paired butterflies are already yellow with August Over the grass in the West garden; They hurt me. I grow older.
Heaven is high, Earth Wide. Bitter between them flies my sorrow.
I bow in reverence to the white cloud.
Bears, dragons, tempestuous on mountain and river, Startle the forest and make the heights tremble. Clouds darken beneath the darkness of rain, streams pale with a pallor of mist. The gods of Thunder and Lightning Shatter the whole range.
The living is a passing traveler; The dead, a man come home.
I am asked why I live in the green mountains; I smile but reply not, for my heart is at rest. The flowing waters carry the image of the peach blossoms far, far away; there is an earth, there is a heaven, unknown to men.